


Switch

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Body Swap AU, M/M, Pointless Story, so much sass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 18:38:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6868804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa wakes up in Iwa-chan's body and is Distraught. Iwaizumi ain't to happy, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Switch

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt on tumblr from wing-spiker: Oikawa slowly opening his eyes and waking up to see he’s in Iwai’s room, but recalling the night before he didn’t go sleepover. He walks over to the mirror feeling oddly strange to see not his reflection looking back but… Iwaizumis instead. He picks up Iwai’s phone to see 50 texts and 15 calls sent from his phone in just 15 minutes. “Why does my face look like your face?!” “Pick up now!” “Answer dammit!” “Why do you have 115 pictures of me on your phone?!”… they’ve switched bodies!

The ceiling didn’t look right as Oikawa craned open his eyes. Not sure what he ate before bed to cloud his brain like that, he shook his head and muttered aloud, “Oh, it’s going to be that kind of day.”

Sitting bolt upright as he heard a familiar voice from a very unfamiliar source, horror dawned as he realized he was in Iwa-chan’s room. Wearing Iwa-chan’s pajamas, he observed as he looked down. With Iwa-chan’s voice.

Well, _this_ dream can end at any time, he thought as he slid out of bed and padded blurry-eyed to the bathroom. Scratching his belly, he relieved himself before fumbling around for his glasses. However, when his hand only wrapped around something small and plastic that looked suspiciously like Iwa-chan’s contact lens case when held closer, something cold and bizarre settled on him like a mantle.

Leaning close to the mirror, Oikawa could discern close-cropped black hair, thick untamed eyebrows, and sun-kissed skin with a dash of freckles if you looked close enough.

“Oh my god.”

Just as he stared in horror at the mirror, Oikawa heard the noisy blare of rock music that he would recognize anywhere as Iwa-chan’s ringtone. “Please me him,” he muttered as he tore through the room in search of the phone. “Where are you?”

At last, he spotted the phone, only to wrinkle his nose when he squinted to see the caller ID read ‘Shittykawa’. If not for the utter emergency, Oikawa had half a mind to reject the call, but he grumbled, “Hello to you, too,” before picking up.

“Dude, what the hell?” squawked Oikawa’s own voice from the other end of the line. “What. In. The. Hell.”

“I don’t know!” Oikawa ran his fingers through his hair, only to be disconcerted by the unfamiliar texture. “And why are you so blind?”

“Who cares about that?” he roared. “Why are you me, and why the hell do I have to be you?”

Oikawa paced around the room, searching for patience he didn’t have to keep from snapping. This was a disaster. Instead of being at home in his own tidy space, he was trapped in this little man-cave that smelled like dirty socks and inside a body that — while admittedly not unattractive — did not respond to anything the same way and had the worst case of morning wood he could recall in his entire life.

“What do we do?” Oikawa whined as he flopped on the bed, spread-eagle. “I’m going to look like a troll forever!”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Iwaizumi scoffed. “You don’t even _need_ glasses. You see exactly the same without them. I bet you only wear them for the _aesthetic_.”

Oikawa could almost see Iwaizumi’s familiar sneer on his own face and barely resisted the urge to throw the phone. “How do you even put in contacts? Where are your glasses?”

“You broke them years ago, asshole!”

There was a growl on the other line, and Oikawa understood the feeling well. This was an unmitigated disaster. He could not go through life in this unfamiliar skin, watching people stare at Iwa-chan while he ruined Oikawa’s artfully arranged image.

“And dude. You need an intervention.”

Frowning, Oikawa asked, “For what?”

“Your closet looks like a Garanimals outlet store. Get a life.”

“Hey!” Pouting, Oikawa harrumphed and fired, “At least I don’t smell like socks.”

“I do not!”

They fell silent for a while, and Oikawa could hear the shuffle of paper as Iwa-chan rooted through his perfectly organized belongings. “Don’t —”

“Is there any reason why you have 115 pictures of me on your phone?”

Oikawa froze. “I —” _I like you_ stalled on the tip of his tongue before he reeled it back in. Instead, he settled for an insipid, “Well, you are my best friend.”

“Dude, whatever.” Iwaizumi sighed. “I’m going back to sleep. I don’t know what I ate, but this dream is stupid and needs to be over.”

“Agreed.” Oikawa looked around, happily blind to his surroundings as he stumbled over to the bed. “See you when we wake up.”

“I fucking hope not.”

With a nervous laugh, Oikawa ended the call and crawled back into bed, hiding his face under the covers in the hope that this was all a terrible dream, that he would be back to his usual attractive self when he woke up.

 

The alarm sounded on the bedside table, and Oikawa sprang out of bed with a _whoop_. “I’m me!” he cried as he danced around his clean room that smelled like clean socks and put on his glasses that he freely admitted he really did not need but still wore.

Moments later, his phone clattered to life, and he picked up Iwa-chan’s call.

“You wouldn’t believe the dream I had!” they both said in unison.

The phone slipped out of Oikawa’s hand as he said, “Oh my god.”


End file.
